


What Happens When You Don't Pay Attention

by Ovipositivity



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alien Sex, Body Horror, Cervix Penetration, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Impregnation, Other, Oviposition, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stomach Expansion, Stretching, Vaginal Gaping, gaping, ovipositor, womb penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ovipositivity/pseuds/Ovipositivity
Summary: Cara and the Mando are on the trail of the Child's species. When pursuing a lead on a remote planet, they're ambushed by a creature with special plans for Cara.
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	What Happens When You Don't Pay Attention

One of the perks of traveling from world to world, Cara Dune reflected, was getting to see all sorts of skies.

Many skies were bright blue, cool and clear. Some were granite-grey, or the dull, shimmering orange of a perpetual sunset. Some worlds, trapped in twilight, moldered under black or indigo skies. Some had great pillars of cloud or constant dust storms. Others shimmered with heat-haze or vanished behind skirling gusts of snow.

The sky on Hefteson was a pleasant periwinkle, like the inside of a seashell. Its brightness waxed and waned as the two moons danced their complex tidal dance over the horizon. Both were rich in aluminum and nickel, and their high-albedo surfaces reflected the light of Hefteson’s distant sun. These moons were the reason anyone bothered with Hefteson at all, and nearly all of the star traffic in the system was headed for one or the other, or the orbiting ring of shipyards that tended the bulk haulers and ore freighters.

Almost nobody came down to the surface of Hefteson itself. It was a cold, barren rock, covered in jagged canyons and fungal forests. A few settlers eked out a bare existence, farming fungus or hunting the canyon-dwelling theropods. It was the perfect place to go for someone looking to drop off the map.

At least it had nice views.

They’d landed a week ago, following a series of increasingly threadbare rumors. There was a hermit here, perhaps, some crazy old sentient who’d decided to live in ascetic seclusion. Such people were a credit a dozen, especially with the disruption the galactic civil war had left in its wake. This one, though, was reportedly short, green and fuzzy. With big ears.

Such a rumor was too tantalizing to pass up. _Razor Crest_ had set down outside the lowland jungle and the two of them had set off. Mando took the lead, burning away foliage with his flamethrower gauntlet. The vines let out a squealing hiss as they burned; Cara knew that it was just moisture boiling away, but she couldn’t help but hear it as a cry of pain.

Mist clung to the ground and swirled around their knees. There were things living in it, Cara knew. She hadn’t managed to get a good look at any of them, but she kept catching glimpses of movement in her peripheral. Small animals, hunched over, following the intruders at a safe distance. If their curiosity turned to hunger, though, she was prepared to defend herself.

She pulled out the tracker and shook it again. It was a piece of crap, really, vintage Rebellion-era, and the coordinates loaded in it were almost certainly bogus, but it was the only clue they had. This time, Cara had to slap the side a couple of times before the display screen fizzed into life.

“What does it say?” Mando asked without turning around. Cara turned the screen this way and that before the image resolved itself. She frowned and squinted at the display, willing it to make sense.

“Uh, about two klicks north-northwest,” she said. She pointed a little to the right of their current path. “That way. It’s a bit of a climb.”

That turned out to be an understatement. The jungle thinned as they climbed and the ground grew rockier. The mist fell away beneath them. They were ascending the steep wall of a canyon, and their progress slowed to a crawl. More than once, they had to detour around a rockfall, or work together to clear boulders from their path.

By the time they made the top of the ridge, Cara’s muscles burned with exertion, and despite the chill in the air she was breaking a sweat. Far below, the tops of the shroomtrees bulged against the periwinkle sky. She stood on a rocky escarpment, a cliff face to one side, a sheer drop to the other. Peering over the edge, she whistled. They’d climbed farther than she’d thought. On her other side, the cliff wall was dotted with irregularly shaped caves.

“Are we close?” Mando asked. He stood statue-still, as ever. Cara couldn’t tell if he was even breathing hard.

She looked at the tracker again. “Uh… closeish. I think. Maybe he’s in one of those?” She pointed at the row of caves.

Mando shrugged and pulled out a lamp-pack. “Might as well check,” he said.

The first cave was just a shallow divot in the stone. The second was small and round, its floor barren except for scattered stones. The third…

“I think something’s moving in there,” Mando said, peering through his visor. “I can-“

That was all the warning they got. Something dark and larger than a man boiled up out of the depths of the cave, moving faster than a speeder. It was silent but for the whistling wind of its passage. Mando’s reactions were faster than anyone Cara had ever met, and he almost got his blaster up in time.

Almost.

His one shot whined off a stone, and then the thing slammed into him with a sound like a poundhammer hitting a battle droid. Mando didn’t even have time to scream. He left the ground moving horizontally and vanished over the edge of the cliff.

Cara unfroze. The whole process, from the first hint of movement to Mando’s fall, had taken less than two seconds. The creature that had struck him now whirled around towards her. She caught just a glimpse of it, blurred by motion. It looked like a flower, petals caught in the act of blooming, trailing a mass of tentacles behind it. Bulbous black eyes, at least a dozen of them, gleamed in the mass.

She hefted her rotator cannon and thumbed the trigger. The barrels spun up to speed and the power pack’s passive hum climbed to a steady whine. The cannon clanked like a demonic sewing machine. A spray of crimson bolts tore through the air and splashed against the creature’s front. It hissed at her, but the blaster fire sputtered harmlessly off its carapace.

The creature screeched in pain or rage and hurled itself towards her. She ducked and it soared overhead, missing her by less than a foot. Cara spun and braced herself against the ground. If the cannon had hurt it, maybe she just needed more firepower.

Before she could re-aim, something struck her neck. _The tentacles_ , she had time to think, before one constricted around her throat and yanked. She dropped her cannon, instinctively raising her arms to protect herself. The tentacle around her neck was as thick around as her wrist, and lined with tiny suckers that grasped at her flesh. Cara yanked at it, but she might as well have tried to pull a Star Destroyer out of orbit. Its grip was like durasteel. She gagged and choked, fighting for breath. The creature hadn’t slowed, and its momentum pulled her along behind her. She was dragged across the ground, bumping over rocks and scree. Her vision began to tunnel. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. If she could just get one breath, one solid lungful…

Abruptly, the forward motion ceased. Cara bounced and tumbled a couple more feet before sliding to a halt at the base of the cliff. The pressure around her neck slackened slightly, and she drew in a gasping, grateful breath.

She looked around in a daze. The creature was hovering over her, bobbing gently up and down in insouciant defiance of gravity. Its petal-like body segments opened and closed and spun around a central core. Its many eyes regarded her with what seemed to Cara to be altogether too much curiosity. Was it _intelligent_? Could it be? She had never heard of a species like this.

Eventually, it seemed to reach a decision. The thing’s body rotated ninety degrees, so that the mass of tentacles pointed downwards and the flower-like body aimed for the sky. The petals continued their slow rotation, but the tentacles squirmed and thrashed furiously. A dozen of them lashed out towards her and caught her by both wrists and ankles. They ranged in size from the width of her index finger to the width of her calf. No matter the size, though, they had the same unbreakable grip. Cara was a strong woman, but she couldn’t even twitch her limbs. The tentacle wrapped around her neck remained there, but slackened enough that she could breathe. It sat there as if taunting her, saying _I could choke you out at any time, human. Don’t test me._

A second wave of tentacles descended towards her, waving like anemone fronds. These were thinner, no larger than her pinky, and lacked the grasping suckers of their larger kin. Instead, they appeared to be lined with tiny, waving cilia. They ran up and down her body, and a shiver ran up her spine. Their touch was surprisingly gentle. That didn’t bode well. In Cara Dune’s experience, when captors were gentle with you, it was because they wanted to make whatever was coming next last.

She didn’t have to wait long to figure out what the next thing was. The thin tentacles blurred into motion. They thrashed against her, hooked cilia catching on her clothes. Her outfit shredded off her in seconds. The whirling cilia brushed against her skin, but did no more than tickle. She flinched away, expecting to feel them bite into her flesh at any moment.

The anticipated pain never came. She looked down and her breath caught in her throat. The flailing tentacles had torn her clothing to ribbons. Tiny tendrils curled around her armor plates and lifted them off of her, tossing them to one side. Another hooked through the waistband of her panties and tugged. Her underwear tore in half, the shredded pieces tumbling away across the escarpment. She shivered as the cold breeze touched her nethers.

The nest of thin tentacles withdrew, leaving Cara naked and shivering against the cold stone. The creature’s body rotated to face her, and a half-dozen of its eyes blinked in quick succession. She gritted her teeth. “Like what you see, blaster breath?” she growled. “Tell you what, why don’t you let me go and I’ll give you a _really_ good look.” She looked around for her rotator cannon. She couldn’t see it, but her field of vision was severely restricted by the tentacle pinning her neck.

The creature seemed to come to some kind of decision. It turned back towards the sky and extruded a pair of tentacles towards her. These were thin and graceful, with narrow tips and smooth sides. They landed on her belly, caressed it, rubbed her back and forth. Cara shivered. The thing’s touch was gentle, but horribly alien. She could feel some kind of mucous dripping from the tentacles. It pooled in her navel and dripped down her flanks. The tentacles continued to rub back and forth, slowly tracing downward. Cara flinched as one tentacle-tip brushed her pubic mound. It traced lazily through her pubic hair, zigzagging back and forth until it reached the warm cleft of her pussy. The tip of the tentacle flicked insolently at her coral-pink lips. Its twin soon joined it, and they began to stroke her, up one side of her furrow and down the other, circling like stalking hyenas around wounded prey.

Despite herself, despite the horror of her situation, Cara felt a familiar heat growing in her loins. She shuddered and bit her lip to keep from moaning. The touch of the tentacles was so achingly familiar. Memories bubbled up… nights on deployment, her troop huddled together in the same bivouac, finding comfort and release from combat stress in each other’s bodies… nights with Mando, his awkward fumbling endearingly cute… Her clit, woken by the soft touch, peeked out of its hood. A familiar heat flowed outward from her molten core, prickling the hairs on the back of her neck and flushing her cheeks.

One of the tentacles slipped inside her, and this time Cara _did_ moan. The tentacle’s flesh had looked smooth, but as it slithered into her quim, she could feel that that was not the case. Its surface was pebbled with irregular studs that rubbed against her vaginal walls. The tentacle corkscrewed as it penetrated deeper into her body, and its twirling motion ground those studs into her in a way that set of miniature thermal detonators in her brain. Despite her dire predicament, she could feel her body responding: her muscles relaxing, dew beading her soft nether lips. It drizzled out like honey as the tentacle withdrew.

Her respite did not last long, and when the tentacle returned, it was joined by its twin. Cara ground her teeth together as the two tentacles, braided around each other like rope, thrust themselves into her. Her pussy lips bulged around the monstrous intrusion—together, the tentacles were as thick as Cara’s wrist, much larger than any man she’d taken before. Her eyes bulged and her tongue fell out of her mouth, spittle flying. She _whuffed_ in surprise, which quickly turned into a groan of pain. The stretching sensations emanating from her battered quim were like nothing she’d ever felt. It hurt, yes, but she’d long ago learned how narrow and blurry the line was between pain and pleasure. She tried to push her thighs together, the stem the intrusion or at least slow it down, but she was utterly helpless. The tentacles bore into her, deeper and deeper, their pebbled sides scraping against her velvet-soft walls and drawing little gasps and moans out of her throat. Each twist seemed to find some new part of her, some secret part she hadn’t even suspected, sensitive and crying out for release. Each touch sent wildfire up her spine and lightning crackling along her limbs. She’d been hit with stunbolts before, and that was the closest analogy she could think of: a pulse of sensation that overwhelmed her senses and left her jittering and helpless on the floor.

The tentacles pushed deeper still, deeper than she’d ever been penetrated before. She cast her eyes downward and was unsurprised to see a slight bulge tenting the skin of her stomach, rising up between two of her well-defined abdominal muscles. _Sithspit, it’s got to be at my womb by now!_ she thought. And indeed, she felt those fingertip-tentacles tapping at her cervix like burglars slinking around a locked door. The sensation was unfamiliar but unmistakable. _No way,_ she told herself, _it can’t_ -

It could. The tentacles inside her tensed, a blink rippled up the line of eyes that still watched her from above, and then a sudden surge of muscular force inside her coincided with a white-hot burst of pain. Cara screamed, a pure ragged cry of agony. She’d been wounded plenty on the front lines, often worse than this, but there was something personal and intimate about this violation that made it so much worse.

The tentacles were in her womb, now, she could tell that without looking. They slithered and skittered like lasroaches, exploring every inch of her innermost sanctum. The pain had faded to a dull ache, and the wet, lurid pleasure from earlier was still there, given a sick twist by this latest invasion. Cara’s heart hammered in her chest. This was as far as the creature could go without damaging her—did it know that? Or would it continue boring deeper into her until its tentacles burst out of her mouth? She fought ferociously to free her arms, but with no more success than earlier.

The tentacles, at least, did not seem to want to go any further. They swirled around each other in a spinning helix, but made no move to thrust deeper. Instead, they seemed to be separating from each other. Cara groaned as the tightly intertwined braid unraveled. The tentacles began to separate slightly from each other, prying her open as they want. The pain returned, sharp and insistent, as her pussy was methodically stretched open by irresistible forces. She desperately wanted to look down, to see what was happening to her, but the tentacle pinning her neck stayed stubbornly resolute. Perhaps it was a blessing—if she could see the way her body was being invaded and colonized, perhaps she would panic.

 _It doesn’t seem to want to kill me. That’s the good news. The_ only _good news._

The tentacles took their time unwinding and pulling apart. They would pause every so often and swirl around each other, and Cara would arch her back and stiffen. The pain had mostly faded by now, twinging occasionally when the tentacles tugged apart by another millimeter. Each tug was accompanied by a short squirt of cool goop inside her, which sank into her flesh and left her feeling strangely numb and tingly. Was it a muscle relaxant? A numbing agent? Both? Whatever it was, it took the edge off the agony, and Cara welcomed it.

She was growing dizzy now, though how much of that was the result of this strange fluid and how much was from her punishing ordeal, she could not say. Her thoughts flew apart as quickly as she tried to assemble them. She licked her dry lips and looked around. She’d come up here for… something. With… someone. Why? Who? It was hard to remember, hard to think over the thundering rumble that echoed around her brain. The pleasure built up inside her, hot and thick and sticky, melting her willpower and sapping the strength from her limbs. She was no longer even trying to fight. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her tongue lolled from the corner of her mouth. Her expression, normally so serious, became a vapid grin. “More,” she gurgled, not caring if the creature could understand or even hear her. “More…”

Whether it was reacting to her voice or simply coincidence, the tentacles began to withdraw. Even this process was agonizingly slow. The rubbery appendages pulled themselves out of her a millimeter at a time, twisting and writhing the whole way, making sure that not a single square inch of her once-tight channel went untouched. A shiver ran up her spine as they withdrew themselves from her womb, leaving her feeling strangely empty and hollow. She mewled desperately at the fading pleasure. Inch by inch, the tentacles slipped out of her, leaving her forsaken and forlorn. She frowned and writhed back and forth, twitching weakly against her restraints. “No,” she begged, “no, please, don’t…” Her clit ached and throbbed with need, and her empty fuck-tunnel spasmed and clenched desperately, as if hoping to hold on to some vestige of the pleasure from earlier.

The tip of the last tentacle slipped out of her, followed by a steady _drip-drip-drip_ of goop that dribbled and pooled around Cara’s ass. She still couldn’t see what was happening between her legs, but the cold mountain wind carried a chill right up inside her and made her shiver. She felt strangely hollow, as they she’d been cored out by the probing tentacles. As the pleasure receded, the fog in her brain started to lift, and she moaned in despair. All of her strength was gone. All of her hope had gone with it.

The creature wasn’t finished with her, apparently. Its frond of tentacles quivered and pulsed like a beating heart. Except for the five still pinning her, all of the creature’s tendrils lifted up and away from the ground, revealing the bottom of the creature’s body. It was smooth, the same carapace texture as the “petals” but without the eyes. At the center of the thing’s radial symmetry sat a sphincter, much like a starfish’s mouth. As she watched, the sphincter puckered and dilated, and something bulged out from within it.

 _Is this it? Am I going to be devoured?_ Cara had heard of creatures like this, that could extrude their stomachs and digest prey on the outside. Being digested alive was a horrible way to go—she’d heard that unfortunates who fell into a brooding Sarlacc could be digested for a thousand years or more. Hopefully this would be quicker.

As the bulge grew, though, Cara became a bit less certain about its nature. It didn’t look like a stomach. It was a tube, roughly the size of her calf, segmented like an annelid. Greenish mucous dripped from its sides as it extruded. It unfurled itself from the thing’s body a bit at a time, growing and growing and growing—first six inches, then a foot, then more. As it emerged, the creature hovered lower, descending towards Cara’s prone form.

It had almost reached her by the time she realized what it was planning to do. Her eyes widened. “No… no!” she gasped. “You can’t possibly! It’ll kill me!” The tentacles had been large, but Cara was a tough woman. This tube, though, seemed positively gigantic. It was at least as big around as her calf, and the base of it seemed even wider. _It can’t fit!_ Cara thought as the creature descended towards her helpless pussy. _It’ll tear me open!_

The creature either didn’t think so or didn’t care. It settled to a halt mere inches from her hips. The tube moved on its own, twitching towards her, poking and probing like a snuffling hound. Its bulbous head found her gaping quim and zeroed in. Slowly, carefully, and with infinite patience, it began to push itself inside her.

Cara whimpered as the thing’s head slipped into her cunt. She must have been stretched more than she’d thought; the head looked as big as a mujjifruit, but it slipped inside her without pain or difficulty. It had an odd texture, spongy but firm, and as it brushed against her slack lips and stiff, aching clit it sent sparks dancing up her spine. The thing’s entrance was accompanied by another gush of goo, which settled into her body and spread that familiar numbness. She was thankful for that much at least: if she was to be torn asunder by a gigantic alien cock, she’d rather not feel it.

As the creature settled into her, though, no tearing seemed to be forthcoming. The stretching sensation from before returned, though there was no pain now, perhaps because of how much of the goop she’d absorbed. Instead, she felt deliciously _full_ , full like she’d never been before. The creature’s monstrous organ was pushing on every inch of her at once, filling her to the brim as no man had ever done. The pressure mounted to the point of pain and hovered there on the threshold, never quite crossing it. Inch after inch of goo-slick meat slid into her cavernous, welcoming quim, forcing her legs farther apart and bulging her belly outward. She could see the bulge easily now: it looked like she’d swallowed a hyperball, and it was still growing. There was pain, yes, but it was distant and easy to ignore, especially with the rising tide of delicious satisfaction filling her mind. She relaxed into it. She could not escape, could not stop this invasion of her body, could not even slow it down. She stopped trying.

Her pace quickened as more and more of the tube slipped into her. It was difficult going now; despite the thorough stretching it had given her earlier, the creature was having to fight for every inch. The tube had widened, too, and the part now passing into her was at least as big around as her thigh. It pushed, and she slid backwards across the rocks a few inches. Sharp pebbles scraped her back and shoulders, but she felt only frustration that her body was unable to fully welcome her guest. She willed herself to relax, to open wider, to make space for joyous communion. The creature tightened its grip, momentarily cutting off her airway, and Cara choked and gurgled. The sudden loss of oxygen heightened her pleasure, and as her vision began to gray out, she had her first orgasm of the day: a churning, full-body roil of pleasure that clenched and unclenched her hands and burst volcanically in her brain. She shook like a droid fighting a restraining bolt, arms and legs twitching weakly, eyelids fluttering. The creature relaxed its grip around her neck just in time, and she sucked in a greedy lungful of air. Blissful tears rolled down her cheeks. She babbled mindlessly, uncaring if the creature could even understand her: “yes, oh yes, thank you, please, more, please, yes…”

She had the bare presence of mind left to brace herself for when the tube reached her cervix, but even that left her unprepared for the feeling of her womb being invaded for the second time that day. Her body deformed around the massive invasion, stomach bulging, organs shifting, her tight channel remolded into an alien fucksleeve. Drool leaked from the corner of her mouth and dripped down her chin. She came again at the feeling, her whole body shaking around the impaling organ. Cara no longer worried that she would die. She no longer cared. All that mattered were the insistent demands of her greedy clit and gaping, hungry pussy.

The tube came to a rest inside her, and for a moment, all was still. Cara tried to catch her breath. She desperately wished one hand was free—not to fight the beast off, but to play with herself. Now that it had stopped moving, its organ was no longer brushing against her clit. She looked down, hoping to see the creature start moving again, but what she saw instead cut through the brain-fog.

Something was moving _inside_ the tube. Something round and wide, something being pushed along the tube’s length by a rippling muscular contraction. Thinking straight wasn’t easy right now, but a word Cara had learned years ago tumbled into place:

 _Ovipositor_.

This creature wasn’t fucking her, not exactly. The giant tube wasn’t its penis. The thing wasn’t male at all! This was an ovipositor, and the round shape now rolling along it was an egg. And with the head of the tube nestled comfortably in Cara’s womb, there was only one place that egg could go.

First, though, it had to get inside her, and that presented its own difficulties. Her pussy had stretched heroically, but it seemed to have reached its limit. The egg nudged against her paper-thin lips, but simply could not get past them. Cara felt it push against her a couple of times, then stop. The creature paused for a moment, as if thinking. Its body shifted slightly to one side, the eyes blinked, and a rippling wave of peristalsis flowed down the length of the tube. When it reached Cara, the hydraulic pressure built up rapidly until she cried out. There was another searing flash of agony, and the first egg slipped into her. “Ah!” she yelped, half in surprise, half in pain. The pain mostly faded, but she could still feel the egg inside her. It moved quickly up her passage, and she shifted to and fro. She’d grown used to the feeling of the massive ovipositor inside her, but as the egg moved it pushed the ovipositor’s segmented edges against her, drawing out little thunderbolts of pleasure that spasmed and jolted her body. By the time it reached her womb, the creature had built up another wave of peristalsis, and the egg barely paused at her cervix. It practically shot forth from the tip of the ovipositor and came to a rest against the edge of her womb. Something followed it: a sort of warm, honey-texture stickiness, slurping from the ovipositor’s tip and adhering the egg to her inner walls. She sighed at the sudden feeling of relief. The egg inside her was a strange and alien presence, but at least she wasn’t quite so stretched anymore.

Her relief was not to last. A second egg was already coming to join the first. Cara mentally prepared herself for its passage, but there was nothing she could do but endure it as it marched inch by inch through her body. She felt utterly conquered, plundered like a besieged city. Her most sacred space, where she might one day nurture a life, had been colonized by this alien’s spawn. Would they eat their way out of her when they hatched? Was this death after all? She didn’t even have the energy to speculate.

The third egg wrenched another orgasm out of her, the strongest yet. She couldn’t help herself. Her whole lower body was numb with the effects of the creature’s excretions, yet the pleasure that sizzled from her swollen belly was as strong as ever. It overpowered even her lingering fears of death or mutilation. She found it impossible to care about her own fate. So what if the creature’s young chewed their way out of her stomach? She couldn’t do anything about it, anyways. All that mattered was what she was feeling right now: the ecstasy, the fullness, the sensation of communion with another life-form. No man had ever known her so intimately. She belonged to this creature now. She would carry its brood, and if fate wished it, she would carry many more, over and over again. The thought made her smile, and she closed her eyes and relaxed into the climax. Her muscles relaxed and her last hints of resistance disappeared.

She lost track of how many eggs the creature laid in her after the fifth. The eggs themselves felt smallish, no larger than her fist, but each one was accompanied by a dollop of warm goo that quickly solidified inside her. She gasped and sighed as each new egg popped out and joined its brethren. Her stomach rose like baking bread: first she looked like a newly pregnant woman just starting to show, then a woman ready to drop, and still she grew. Veins stood out starkly against the pure white of her skin, gnarled bands of scar tissue from old wounds forming a topographical map. She looked like she’d swallowed a BB unit by the time the last egg dribbled forth from the end of the ovipositor. She longed to touch her stomach, to caress it. It seemed impossible to such a bloated, gravid orb could be part of her. Yet she felt no fear, not even a hint of apprehension. Was that the goo, too, or had the overweening pleasure broken her mind?

The ovipositor finally began to withdraw. It paused every few inches and disgorged another spurt of warm stickiness. The stuff hardened inside her almost at once, like wax but harder. Even after the ovipositor pulled out, her womb could not seal itself back up, held open as it was by the hardened plug of resin. The creature was nothing if not methodical. It waited until each layer of resin had hardened sufficiently to keep her loose passage gaping open before pulling back another inch or two and adding more. In this manner it took more than ten minutes to fully withdraw: ten minutes during which Cara climaxed twice more, sweat pouring off her forehead, her back arching and teeth grinding against each other. With one last spurt of resin, the ovipositor slipped out of her ruined pussy and began to coil back into the creature’s body.

Cara didn’t notice right away when the pinning tentacles released her. She sagged onto her side, unable to support the weight of her enormously swollen stomach. Her limbs were sore and cramped from their long immobilization, and she groaned and tried to rub some sensation back into her wrists. She felt as weak as a loth kitten. The pink smoke that had filled her head was dissipating now, and the aftershocks of her last orgasm had also faded. Her lower body still tingled with pins and needles, but the numbness in her mind had faded, and the horror of her situation set in. She stroked her gigantic belly and let out an inchoate moan of despair. She barely felt it when two of the thickest tentacles reached down beneath her to scoop her up.

“Hey!” The voice cut through the air, a short, sharp declaration. For a moment, Cara couldn’t place it. She looked around in time to see a familiar figure alight on the plateau. Mando’s jetpack nozzles guttered and fizzled and he raised one arm. “Step away from her, ugly. I’m warning you.”

With an angry screech, the creature gathered its tentacles behind it and tilted towards him. Whatever strange propulsion mechanism it used gave it tremendous acceleration. From where she lay, Cara watched it barrel down on Mando, and her heart sank. She wanted to cry out, to warn him it was blaster-proof, but she barely had the energy to open her mouth. She tried anyways, and got a feeble mewling for her trouble. Mando didn’t even turn his head.

He stood his ground as the creature bore down on him. It would strike him again in seconds. Cara wanted to look away, could not bear to watch him hurt or killed…

And suddenly, he wasn’t standing there. He’d rolled left just as the beast swooped through the space he’d been standing in and came up with his wrist extended. He wasn’t holding his blaster, either. Instead, his grappling cable shot out from its wrist mount. It was an excellent shot: the lariat at the end caught the creature’s central ring of tentacles, cinched around it, and pulled tight. Mando yanked on the cable and the creature spun in midair like a child’s toy on the end of a string. It keened furiously, but it could not arrest its momentum. Its own speed swung it around and inward, towards the cliff face.

The thing hit the stone wall traveling at well over twenty kilometers per hour. The impact sent chipped shards of stone flying, and Cara winced away as some of them pattered down on her. Both arms went instinctively to protect her enormous belly, as though she was carrying a child and not some hideous alien spawn. The creature, meanwhile, slumped down the wall, falling to the ground in a heap as if stunned by the impact. It lay there, writhing, its petal-arms folding and unfolding. Its many eyes twitched to and fro in their sockets. Mando advanced on it, his stride all business, not a trace of uncertainty in his step. He raised his wrist when he was a few feet away and toggled the flamethrower.

A sheet of fire enveloped the creature and it howled at ear-piercing volume. The sound was dreadful, like glass shards scraping against metal, a high-pitched keen that went on and on and on. Along with the cry came a terrible smell of burning plant matter. Mando kept the flamethrower’s nozzle open for a full ten seconds. The creature thrashed under his assault, shrank, eventually went still. The keening died out too, leaving only its echo bouncing off the cliff walls.

Mando rushed to Cara’s side and knelt next to her. “Cara!” he exclaimed, cradling her head in his arms. “Are you-“

“I’m… alive…” she croaked. Speech was difficult. “My body… eggs…”

“I’m sorry,” he replied grimly. “I was able to arrest my fall with the jetpack, but by the time I regained the plateau, it had caught you.”

“You… saw… whole… thing?” she asked. Her cheeks flushed. Mando simply stared at her.

“No,” he said. “I just made it back up.”

Cara groaned. “Liar. Enjoyed… show... did… you?”

Mando shrugged. “I looked away, at least. Sorry, Cara, but I couldn’t risk cooking the thing with it still on top of you.” He knelt down. “We need to get you to a medbay, fast. Those eggs need to be removed before they hatch. It’ll take surgery. And you’re in no shape to move.” He helped Cara up into a sitting position and offered her a flask of water from his belt. She sipped gingerly. The first swallow almost made her throw up, but the second was easier, and getting some water in her belly made her feel better. She didn’t want to look down, but she barely had to: her enormously bloated stomach was visible even from a sitting position, and her breasts had been pushed up atop it, practically bumping her chin. Her pussy ached and she could feel the sticky resin plug inside her. She wanted to reach down, maybe try to pull it out, but she couldn’t even get one arm around her gravid belly.

“See?” she said, indicating herself. “This is what I was talking about earlier, Mando.”

“Huh?” he cocked his head at her.

“I told you, I’m not cut out to be a mom.”


End file.
